


Breathing Space

by SkartoArgento



Category: Deus Ex: Human Revolution
Genre: Dirty Talk, Infolink fun, M/M, Masturbation, dominant Pritchard, fast burn, short fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-01
Updated: 2018-03-01
Packaged: 2019-03-25 18:32:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13840566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkartoArgento/pseuds/SkartoArgento
Summary: A short break during a mission, and Pritchard makes Adam's alone time a little more interesting through the infolink.





	Breathing Space

**Author's Note:**

> This is pretty short, I just really, really wanted to break my writer's block.

 

Shadows hugged Adam's corner of the room, settled after the shootout with some big shotgun-wielding lug took out one of the overhead lights. Now the guy was bleeding onto the dusty floor in the next room, and the shotgun rested easily in his hands. They never learned, not even after they saw his nanoblades slide into their buddies chests or skulls. If a few had the sense to run, a lot more lives could have been spared.

He snapped out the spent cartridges, reloaded with a few he'd pilfered along the way. _Quickly and quietly,_ Sarif told him back at SI. _Track down whoever's running this damn espionage operation and take them out. I won't lose any more tech to this asshole._

Someone needed to tell Sarif that 'quickly and quietly' had a bad habit of turning into 'slowly and conspicuously'. If he'd noticed the security camera on the second floor down, the whole thing would be a hell of a lot smoother. Bastards kept it behind a door, and he'd been too busy reloading his tranq gun to see the bloom of security light.

Paying for it now, and so was the guy in the next room.

The Wayfinder aug gave the all-clear, but he leaned back against the wall, shotgun over a spare holster at his shoulder. No more alarms, everyone on the floor was neutralised, one way or another. He'd definitely wrecked the office of whoever had been unlucky enough to work there; papers scattered all over the floor, and the expensive oak desk was overturned, gaping holes blown through the wood.

Minimal injuries to his body - a pellet's skim had scored a line of red across his cheek, but apart from that, not so much as a splinter. A chance for a breather. Adrenaline faded, pushed to the background, but one of its side effects made itself known with a quick throb of heat between his legs. His sigh blew out around gritted teeth. Never when he wanted some alone time in his bed, but _now_?

Augmented fingers slipped to his inner thigh before he clenched them into a fist.

_Not the time, or the place._

_"Jensen? Are you just standing there?"_ Ah, the nasal devil on his shoulder. He must have been lingering a little longer than usual. _"Your vitals aren't showing any significant damage. Did you get lost?"_

Lost, that was one way of putting it. His fist unclenched itself, but his fingers stayed, forefinger considering the junction of his thigh. Unprofessional. Downright fucked-up after he'd just killed five men. But the ache shivered through him, and the sensible part of his brain gave up the controls too easily.

_"Jensen? Do you read me?"_ Pritchard's voice prickled with a mix of alarm and concern that tightened his lower stomach. Shit, how did he lose it so fast?

"Yeah," he managed, the word a dusty grunt against his lips, "I read you, Francis."

_"Well, finally. Thank you, Jensen, for making me worry about an issue with the infolink. If you're done staring at the wall, maybe you could continue with the mission?"_

Damn optical augs - Pritchard saw what he also saw, and right now that wasn't ideal. Wayfinder scanned again, showed no angry red triangles moving in. "It's called taking a breather, _Francis_. Some of us are risking our lives out here instead of playing with computers. Think I've earned a minute to myself."

Even the acid of his reply couldn't erode the warmth that settled over his skin. He cupped himself, hesitant, rode the sudden wave of pleasure that bloomed under his hand.

_"Your vitals just spiked - what the hell's happening, Jensen?"_ That concern again, and his erection twitched in response. He unzipped his pants, almost missed Pritchard's next decisive words. _"I'm contacting Sarif -"_

"No – no, don't." Desperation bled through, mixed with the lust. "Don't. Everything's fine. I'm checking inventory, thought I had no biocells left." A lie, a bad lie, and Pritchard wasn't so antisocial as to miss that. "Just... go get yourself a coffee, Francis. Go to the bathroom. I'm taking a couple of minutes here, and you're a distraction."

Rather than a squawk of indignation, the next words sounded like slow consideration, figuring out a hidden meaning. _"A... distraction?"_

The wall against his back anchored him. His breath caught in his lungs, even as his fingers brushed through thick hair to slide around his cock. These moments came rarely now. Not about to waste it.

He gave Pritchard a good view of the busted light, kept focus on the jagged plastic covering. His fingers circled, hips pushing forward. The urgency of the situation set a frantic rhythm, and a helpless moan shivered from his throat – one the low-noise filter of the infolink certainly wouldn't block out.

No reply to the sound, no snotty remark or sarcastic jab.

Maybe Pritchard really took his advice, wandered to the cafeteria for the twelfth coffee of the day.

The next moan came when he squeezed the head of his cock, slipped it through his fist. Hot skin against an augmented palm – both sensations stole the rest of his senses. A little harder, a little faster, and he'd be _there_ , at _last_ -

_"Jensen, stop."_

His palm tore away, hit the wall behind before he opened his eyes. When had he closed them?

No longer held back, his breath dragged into his lungs, heavy pants that would suit a marathon runner. His erection beat against his stomach, but Pritchard's tone held his attention. He'd stopped, why had he stopped? "Pritchard -"

_"Look down, Jensen. Right now."_

Not anger in those words, something silky and smooth that felt like a hand stroking between his legs. His mouth dry, he swallowed, not above embarrassment. "I don't -"

_"Spare me another bad lie, that wasn't a request. I know what you're doing. You don't listen when I_ ask _you to do things, so consider this an order, Jensen. Look. Down."_

_You're not in any position above me,_ he wanted to say, but thinking about Pritchard above him conjured up an image that sent his hand back to his cock.

Down from the light, his eyes fixed on the opposite wall, arousal thudding with every beat of his heart. From the wall, they fell to the floor, roamed the upturned table and slivers of glass. No remark about his slow obedience, but through the infolink, the silence spoke for itself. Pritchard would be leaning forward, close to the monitor, grey eyes unblinking and eager, long fingers hovering on the keyboard and lips parted. Every scrap of attention on him.

Lust reared, an unbearable pressure, and he looked down to where his erection emerged from his pants. A slow, measured breath reached through the infolink. He slid his hand up and down, once, twice, before pulling slightly away from his body, showing the length to his captivated audience. How did Pritchard make him so shameless?

_"What are you thinking about?"_

The words broke through and startled him into the truth. "You."

_"I'm flattered."_ Not only flattered, incredibly fucking smug, by the sound of it. _"I'd like specifics."_

"Specifics?" The word broke with a groan. Pre-come slipped over his fingers. " _Specifically_ , thinking about you right _here_ ," his cock lurched again, "against this wall, getting what you want."

_"And what do I want, Jensen?"_

Another moan through his lips, loud enough to block out his heartbeat. He steadied his hand, gasping. "You- want this- I know you do. You wanna get fucked- held down- fucked _hard_." Control slipped, his fingers a blur. Close, so close...

_"No, I don't think so."_

A jolt and his hand slowed. "What?"

_"That's not what I want."_ A creak of chair from the infolink. _"Keep looking down. And don't stop."_

Orders were orders. He forced his head back down, kept his hand sliding, friction raising the pleasure again.

_"I wouldn't be pinned to the wall, Jensen. You get that honour."_ A little less smug, a little more breathless. _"I don't care how strong you are. You'd let me do that. And I know how much you like to complain, but don't worry, I'll find a way to keep your mouth shut - or at least occupied."_

Trembling arms kept him held up. Phantom hands pushed against his shoulders, a warm body pressed him into the wall, a tongue licked its way inside his mouth. His whisper came out in a rush. "Yeah..."

_"And I'd take you against the wall. Right there. Slide in and give you what_ you _want."_

Breath held, caught on the edge. Pulse beat a mad rhythm. Fingers clenched –

_"And I would make you come_ hard _, Jensen."_

He shattered, his cry loud in the silence. The climax shuddered through his body, kept his fist tight as his cock pulsed with each wave. Fire incinerated every nerve and every cell, left him gasping wordless pleas to a man miles away.

A man who answered with a not-quite-audible whisper, a comforting encouragement that kept him floating high on the orgasm, riding out the seconds until they faded.

Slowly, the world righted itself. Slowly, he came back, inch by inch, sated. His breath returned, eased back to normal.

Reluctant, he wiped his hand on the carpet. Unease trickled itself into his mind. He cleared his throat, but the infolink relayed nothing but radio silence. He sighed, tucked himself back into his pants. "This doesn't change anything."

_"You're a bad liar when you can't use your CASIE aug, Jensen."_ Was that disappointment in Pritchard's voice? _"Now we know each other better."_

That was true enough. Phantom hands against his back, cheek against the wall this time. It would be rough, and fast, and he would definitely come hard –

"I'm ready to carry on with the mission." If he thought for too long, maybe he'd do something really stupid, like invite Pritchard out for drinks. Rather not be seen going back to his apartment with Pritchard on his arm, that would draw everyone's attention, especially Sarif's. "There's an elevator on this floor I can take, right?"

Another sigh, this time from Pritchard. _"Yes, soldier, there's an elevator. Make sure to stand clear of the doors before they close. And remember, the numbers with the little dash in front of them means you go down."_

"Yeah, thanks."

_"And by the way? This conversation isn't over."_

"I'll make you a deal." He reloaded his tranq gun, the darts slipping into the chamber. Pleasure still washed over his skin, echoes from the orgasm twitching polymer muscles. "Don't piss me off until I get back to Sarif Industries, and I promise the conversation won't be over."

_"That's going to be a challenge, but I think I can make it work."_ A pause, a struggle. _"Good luck, Jensen."_

Lucky Pritchard couldn't see his smile. "Thanks, Francis. I needed that."

 


End file.
